


PWP snippet

by applecameron



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecameron/pseuds/applecameron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Yeah.  There'd always be something like anger between them.  Passion, too.  Fucker.</i><br/>Minor spoilers for 'Meridian', 'Fallen'.<br/>August 1, 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	PWP snippet

Daniel woke up.

Jack's cock was bobbing against his nose. Not a _bad_ thing, as such, just not what he'd seen when he'd crawled into the tent to go to sleep. Of course, there had been, um, _drink_. In somewhat prodigious quantities, or at least for anyone not Teal'c. Daniel had finally cried pax and gone to bed. Jack, however, had been busy drinking the high priest under the table, and just waved blearily as he crawled away.

Guess the high priest must be under the table.

He blinked. The cock in question -- undeniably Jack's, yes, he knew that cock -- bobbed in his face. Once upon a time, he'd known that cock quite well. Once upon a time, he'd taken it in his mouth with a considerable degree of skill, not to mention passion, and sucked off Colonel "I Bleed Air Force Blue" O'Neill like, let's face it, God's gift to Colonel Jack O'Neill. Fucker.

Daniel _really_ woke up. His pants were down at his ankles, his cock was hard, and Air Force Blue was -- "What the--"

"Daniel, I'm tired of it." Jack's breath blew across the tip of his cock, hard in the man's hand.

"Tired of what, Jack?" Of me wanting you? Of you wanting me? Of me dying? Of neither of us knowing what the fuck we want now that I'm a human being again? Of doing the Don't Ask, Don't Tell dance again?

"It, Daniel. It. All of it." More breath across the sensitive skin at the tip of his dick, and something in his chest caught tight.

Daniel looked at the cock in front of his nose, Jack's ass above pale in the moonlight. Anger, yes. Some of that. But god, the things he did with just his breath and a calloused hand.

He shuddered, a full body wiggle set off by the man with the breath and the hand, that travelled up through his scalp and down again to his toes. "Jack."

"Shut up, Daniel."

A hot mouth descended around his cock, slowly, making him feel every wet flick of Jack's tongue, fingers settling in an 'O' around the base and squeezing comfortably, like a man who knew his way around a dick and wasn't afraid to admit it out here in the boonies on another planet.

Daniel did half a sit-up and flicked his tongue against the vein running under Jack's cock, thinking.

"Whiskey dick, Jack?"

"Shut _up_ , Daniel." The mouth was off his erection, which was a real sorrow, dammit, but the gravelly voice that was Jack O'Neill's whisper made up for it: "I'm going to fuck you into next week, Daniel. And then next week I'm going to fuck you into next month. And then next month, I'm gonna fuck you--" All of this was accompanied by one hand stroking his cock, the 'O' of Jack's fingers nice and wet, just how Daniel liked it. "Next month, I'm gonna fuck you into next _year_." The list of epic time-travel fucks was broken by a hard suck that pulled Daniel's breath out in an explosive grunt.

He came back to himself, arms having wrapped involuntarily around Jack's thighs. "God, you're a cute drunk, Jack." He licked the underside of Jack's cock.

"Shaddup, Daniel," came the answering growl.

Yeah. There'd always be something like anger between them. Passion, too. Fucker.

The tight band across his chest eased as he pulled his mouth to Jack's dick.

Daniel shut up.


End file.
